


Sailing the Gray

by Louffox



Category: Rusty Quill Gaming (Podcast)
Genre: Depression, Dissociation, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hugs, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-01
Updated: 2020-02-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:14:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22513828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Louffox/pseuds/Louffox
Summary: Oscar just gets this way sometimes. He forgot to warn Zolf and isn't sure how he'll respond.
Relationships: Zolf Smith/Oscar Wilde
Comments: 8
Kudos: 92





	Sailing the Gray

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this on my phone in half an hour because I'm having a bad mh day and so who better to inflict that on that mister oscar WILDE! IS! FINE!

He should've planned for this.

They tried to follow routines. With the way the world was falling down around them, they tried to scrape out what corners of normalcy they could. Zolf took up cooking and tried to enforce regular mealtimes with lots of people and healthy food. Wilde still had an office and held meetings and organized his paperwork, and had regularly scheduled meetings and check ins with his teams and individuals. This wasn't possible every day, of course, but they returned to their patterns at every opportunity.

It kept them sane.

Most days.

Wilde was used to schedules. He could improvise with the best of them- how else would he have gotten so high up in the meritocratic agency if he wasn't able to be useful and flexible and adaptable?- but he did appreciate routines. He had enough to think about without micromanaging each hour of each day, every day. It was simply more efficient. He'd even taken to wearing a "monday shirt" outfit, a pale blue tunic and soft orange-brown fitted pants with lots of pockets, to spite Zolf.

"You wear that shirt every Monday," he'd observed, when he'd noticed and had waited a few weeks to verify. It was dark green and had brown patches on the shoulders, elbows, and a brown front pocket. It was quite soft, in the way that well worn, good fabric could only be, and that was what had first caught Oscar's attention.

"That's cos it's my monday shirt," Zolf replied without looking up from the bacon he was doleling out to several plates.

"Okay. Why?"

"I wash my clothes on Sunday. And when I get up on Monday, I don't have to think about what I'm gonna put on. I don't look at the weather or the plans for the day or what's clean and what's comfortable or what I'm in the mood for. I wear my monday shirt."

Zolf was nothing if not himself. So Wilde incorporated the monday shirt routine into his own lifestyle.

He incorporated Zolf into his lifestyle as well.

It was love and care, sweets saved for each other, warm greetings, stolen kisses, shared space and bed and blankets. Tender moments, heated moments, unity against a world they barely recognized, so they kept their eyes on each other.

It was a Monday, afternoon, and everything had gone fine so far. Nothing unusual.

And then he'd found a supply shipment notification paper waterlogged in the ditch beside the front door, too late to make adjustments. And he'd spilled a bit of coffee on his shirt and had to change into something else. And the burn on his hand from the hot coffee was smarting, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror after changing. The man looking back had humidity-frizzy hair, dark circles under his eyes, a mouth twisted to an unsettling frown with an ugly scar, his nose shiny and oily, the red shirt he'd changed into making his skin look washed out and waxy.

He went to his room and slowly lay down on the bed, turned toward the wall.

Time passed. The world was probably doing things around him. Slow thoughts aroze, like bubbles in a murky swamp, and dissipates. 

_ I wonder if Aileen got back yet _ , but the thought faded there. A long while of heavy silence, a lethargy and absence of life, action, curiosity. 

_ Was I supposed to see anyone today? _ He didn't know.

_ Is this how I am now?  _ It was likely this would end.

Eventually.

He drifted.

"Oscar? Are you alright?"

Oh. Zolf. This was his room too. He was filled with a deep sort of… bad feeling. He was going to have to explain this.

He didn't want to.

Didn't know how.

Didn't know if he could.

It took him a moment to find his voice, and another moment to figure out what to do with it.

A moment. It might've been a minute or several. Wasn't sure.

"I'm fine. Just tired." He silently begged Zolf not to ask him about sleep.

Heard Zolf come into the room. Hesitate. Sit on the edge of the bed.

"Do you… is this… does sleep help with this kind of tired? Yes or no?"

Oscar blinked. It took some effort. A bit of light and warmth reached him, deep within his own head as he was. Zolf cared. He spoke carefully and with awareness. Had read the room well and was making it easy for him.

"No." Sleep did help sometimes, though. But it wasn't the sleep. It was the time passing. That helped.

"Okay. Mentally tired then, yeah? Happens. Do you want me to go away?"

Oscar was still aware enough that he knew saying yes was a social no. Telling people to go away was bad. Made people feel bad. He didn't want Zolf to feel bad. Didn't deserve that. The general numbness and ache of the gray nothing space he floated in sharpened for a moment of pain. Zolf didn't deserve this. How dare Oscar come into his life and bring this and drop this on him and expect him to deal with it and spread this poison malaise-

"Alright, I'm gonna go stay busy, but I'll probably check on you every half hour. And if at any point you think you want company, just push my pillow on the floor, and I'll take that as an answer."

And then he left.

Spacily, slow perplexed like his emotions and thoughts were going through molasses, Oscar reflected how odd that all was. He didn't ask for a response. He handled this well.

That was a lot to think about. He didn't.

Drifting.

Breathing.

Silence. The sounds of distant activity in the building, observed but not processed. 

Though eventually, he realized he was thinking again. What time was it? How long had he been lying there? Maybe he would get up. He felt a little hungry. His toes were cold, so he pulled the light knit afghan up over himself, and the weight of the blanket over his shoulder was comforting and nice.

_ I think I would be okay with some company. _ He pushed the pillow off the bed and laid back down, now actively listening to the activity in the building. That sounded like Carter's laugh, and there was a smell like green tea. Aileen loved it at any time of day, so she was probably back. Barnes could organize things, and Zolf had probably told folks- he probably told them…. something. Something tactful. He'd seemed very aware of Oscar's situation, despite the fact that Oscar had never told him anything about it.

Footsteps- heavy, definitely metal legs, coming down the hall and stopping by the door. This was probably the third check, not counting the first time he'd stopped in. The steps started again, and the bed dipped beside him. Without speaking, Wilde scooted back until he was flush against Zolf, wrapped in a warm, safe, little-spoon embrace. An arm came to rest around his waist.

"Is this okay?" Zolf whispered. "You can just nod, I'll feel it."

"Yeah, that's nice. Thank you," he replied, and now the words were easy.

"No, thank  _ you _ . You didn't have to tell me."

"Tell you? I didn't," Oscar said, bemused. (Good, that was a more complex emotion- he was coming back to himself.)

"Yeah. You could've just said you needed sleep, or said you were sick, or something. Or said it was fine for me to come in when it really wasn't. I don't wanna put you through that, have to suffer through my own crap, just to pretend you're fine. I really appreciate your honesty."

He usually planned for this. Usually had an excuse ready, or just pushed through it- and that  _ hurt _ , almost a physical ache, when he had to put on a face and pretend he was fine. Those were the times that the internal silence flipped and turned to screaming.

"Thank you for understanding."

"I wish everyone could. Anything in particular start it?"

"No. It just happens sometimes."

"Hmm. I'll see if I can get some orange juice or something with sunshine in it for you. Not that that'll cure it, but I always heard it helped a little."

"Thanks."

"Anytime."

"How did you know about all this?"

"Guys on the sea would sometimes get like this. Usually if there was a long spate of darkness or something. It was the same people, usually. Sometimes stuff set it off, sometimes it just happened. It's just the way some people are. They just run out of power for a little while and go all quiet."

"Its a little terrifying," Oscar admitted. "But… there's not enough of me working to feel terrified. It's like watching everything stop working, and I want to be scared, but that's stopped working too."

"Unsettling."

"I just thought everyone had this for a long time. Didn't realize it was odd or bad."

"Its not odd or bad. I mean, it's not good, but- and it is a little odd- okay, what I mean is that it's not your fault and I'm okay with it all, and… we're good."

"I think I am now, actually," Wilde said honestly, burrowing back further into Zolf's embrace.

"Well. Now I think  _ I'm _ kinda tired. Maybe we should just stay here and grab a nap," Zolf teased, giving him a small squeeze. Wilde squeezed his arm back, and pressed a kiss to his bicep.

"I'm not against that."

Zolf hummed happily and burrowed his nose into his neck, and Oscar felt it and felt alive and awake again.

**Author's Note:**

> I dont have DID or anything but I felt like crap today in my head and this is kind of how it pans out, and as someone who is generally really good and capable in her work life, I somehow related this to Wilde. Kick ass at work, professional as heck, but still mentally bad sometimes and it's small stupid things that set it off.
> 
> Non-neurotypical people can still be brilliant in their careers. You never know what a person is really like or experiencing, and cannot guess how they are just because they're excellent at work.


End file.
